


A Chilled Kiss

by crimsonadvent



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Because Ithil gets sunburned, F/M, Frost spells to make you happy, Frosting on You, Ithil Lavellan, Sunburns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 16:52:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3257303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonadvent/pseuds/crimsonadvent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ithil is quite sensitive to the heat and easily gets sunburned. It's only with the help of ice spells that the burns are easily soothed. Solas was up to the job and so this happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Chilled Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theblackdash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblackdash/gifts).



> Because my dear theblackdash has finally created Ithil yesterday and we were taking about headcanons. I made a fic to one of her headcanons because she is a dear friend and to commemorate her start on the Inquisition.
> 
> Here's a lofty fic for you. :3

He'd stopped in front of the door, a little unsure if she was decent or not. Their little skirmish from the Western Approach had made Ithil beet red once again.

 

It had been during their little trip to the Forbidden Oasis to investigate the Temple, that the Venatori were studying, did Ithil's weakness occur. She was quite sensitive to the sun. A little bit of the harsh sunlight on her skin caused her pallor to redden. It was manageable at first but their leader would eventually fall to her knees, cringing and muttering pained whispers.

 

In truth only frost spells could mend that weakness. It was a blessing that Solas had been with her during that time and quickly casted the spell on her reddened skin in their camp. His spell eased the heat out but it'd leave Ithil incapacitated for the night.

 

That was the reason he was standing awkwardly by the stairwell. His hand posed in mid-air, counting each invisible tick of time in his mind. He knew that he should make haste, mend the sun's damage on his skin but he was careful not to find her in a compromising state.

 

As his mind whispered ten, his calloused hand held the knob and pressed the heavy metal door open. The scent of Orlesian candles wafted to his nose; a light scent of lavender, Josephine's handiwork.

 

He noiselessly climbed the stairs, finding the elven sprawled upon the covers of her bed. He had to fight off the strong flush on his cheeks at her state of undress.

 

He chided himself mentally and strode towards the bed. Ithil lay upon it clad only in her small clothes as she laid with her stomach on the sheets. His footsteps were quiet and only when the bed dipped under his weight did she notice him.

 

"Solas?" Her voice was hoarse, filled with pain, and it crushed him inside to hear her pain. He reached out towards her, his hand hovering over her reddened back.

 

He'd murmured a quick spell and ever so softly frost coated his fingertips. He gently pressed his digits on her heated skin, noting her low hiss. He was delighted, so to say, at the moan she voiced out as her body welcomed the chill.

 

He swept his hand a little higher, leaving a chilled path on her back. He muttered the same spell yet again, casting his other hand in the familiar frozen spell. He trailed his other set of fingers down, teasing the waistband of her small clothes.

 

"Solas." Ithil's muffled cry made him pause and he sought her gaze. Her eyes were drawn to his own, heated but not because of their expedition from the Western Approach. "You were supposed to help me cool down."

 

"Apologies Inquisitor, I shall go about my task." He spoke, stifling the smile that would break on his face. He brought his fingers higher, skipping on the breast band but trailed each digit languidly on her flushed skin.

 

He left no patch untouched, his cool fingers eliciting wanton cries from her. The hedge mage kept his mind on the task but would let a smirk lighten his features; she was drowned by his touch to see.

 

Her skin was returning to its lighter pallor but he'd have to mend the front as well. He paused, gently settled his hands on her shoulders while his hot breath tickled her ear, "Would you turn around for me, _vhenan_?"

 

She muttered something upon the sheets but he didn't catch them. Solas drew himself back as Ithil shifted her arms beneath her. No sooner she was facing him, skin still flushed red from the excursion but her gaze was anywhere but his eyes.

 

He chuckled to himself, amused at the furious red color of her cheeks. Were those because of the trip? He would have to find out.

 

"Must you really take so much time?" Ithil huffed, crossing her arms as his fingers danced around her ankles. He blew frost upon her skin, noting how she bit her lip at his touch. He stayed silent, forgoing her question as he trailed more icy spells along her legs. The Inquisitor was quite frisky, each frozen touch made her shudder and Solas' eyes was unbidden as she moved under his touch.

 

He ran his cold hands along her shins, rubbing the heated skin until they were a light pink. His fingers tickled around her knees and drew pale lines upon her thighs. It left Ithil breathless.

 

His eyes held a mischievous glint in them as his fingertips traced the hem of her small clothes. She held her breath and he appraised her flushed face with a low murmur, "I am only making sure there is no residue heat left anywhere."

 

Oh he was sneaky. His cool fingers drew glyphs upon her flushed skin, and she groaned at his actions. However dreadful he was, he continued his ascent on her body. Each meticulous touch of his fingers cooled her skin but it stoke the fire within her.

 

He drew various patterns, tracing the scars that littered upon her abdomen. He tapped his fingers along her sides, and was rewarded with a soft peal of laughter. Her hands immediately clasped his wrists as she arched under his touch. “Solas.” She spoke through her teeth, annoyance laced in them. However it did not deter him, his willowy digits dragged blunt nails that sent her over the edge. Her low moans filled the air and he surmised she was truly ticklish.

 

“A mere experiment, _vhenan_.” He spoke against her skin, chuckling at how she glared at him through lidded eyes.

 

He was attentive; not leaving her skin swathed with an icy caress. He drew various vines along her stomach and brought his fingers higher, tickling the soft flesh of her chest. He opted to skip teasing her breast band but lavished much of his attention upon the flesh above the strap of cloth.

 

His blue eyes found hers as his palms cooled her shoulders under his touch. Her black eyes were filled with frustration and was that contempt? He was quite mischievous, perhaps he should cease them? His fingers danced along her skin, relishing her sighs as the ebbing heat cooled off.

 

Finally,his fingers pressed upon her cheeks. This time he paused.

 

“Is there something wrong?” She asked, confused at his sudden halt but Solas held a mask. His face betrayed nothing while his mind swirled with so many thoughts,

 

“A wandering thought Inquisitor, nothing you need to worry about.” They were back to Inquisitor. He had to resort to such a title lest he ravish. He pursed his lips as he let his fingers skimped on her skin, eliciting the heat out of her flesh.

 

Odd, her skin should have lightened its pallor but her cheeks were still scarlet.

 

His mind pulled more mischievous thoughts but he tapered them down, finishing his task as best as he could. He could not help the frown on Ithil’s face as he drew back, his fingers leaving a chilled kiss on her skin.

 

He had to control himself, scold himself on how his errant thoughts would cause an unwanted side effect. Solas could never live in the now, he never had the pleasure of that.

 

But it seemed it never always went his way.

 

The Inquisitor’s marked hand grasped him by his nape and drew his head towards her. Her hot lips pressed upon his, he’d been sure to cast a spell on them. His chilled fingers sought refuge upon her back, drawing familiar shapes on her flesh. She’d moaned against his lips and he slipped his tongue, relishing the hot taste of her mouth.

 

He drew back, a little unsure of her intentions but was awarded of her heated gaze,

 

“Did you truly expect you could get away with that? With all that touching?”

 

His own heated gaze found hers while his wandering fingers fiddled with her waistband, “I had hoped I could.”


End file.
